


Latteart and the Principles of Light

by livinginthequestion



Series: SPN Prompts [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, another coffee shop AU, latte art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 06:18:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4090192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livinginthequestion/pseuds/livinginthequestion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's got a real gift for drawing pictures in his customers' lattes. Unfortunately, not everybody appreciates his skills.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Latteart and the Principles of Light

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Misha's lovely photo.
> 
>  

It's the perfect weather for hot beverages – typical Boston in early January, hovering in the 20s, a little snow here and there with more promised for the weekend. C'est Tout Bon, Benny's coffee shop near the BU campus, opens at 5 am; they're so busy from the moment he unlocks the door that Dean's amazed, as always, to look up and see that it's past 6:30 before he's aware any time has passed.

“Jeez, we're hoppin!” He wipes his hands on his apron and looks over at Benny. “How much milk we been through so far?”

“Lost count, brother, but I'm sure we're startin' on our second cow by now.” Benny laughs at his old joke and Dean chuckles along, joined by several customers in line.

“Okay, who's next?” Dean leans over the order counter and winks at the little old lady standing there smiling at him. “Why, Mrs. Turner, if you get any prettier I'm gonna steal you away. Don't tell your hubby, 'kay?” She hmphs and shakes her head at him. “Your regular, or are you up for an adventure this morning?”

“Just fix me my usual hot chocolate, dear. I'm too old for adventure.”

Dean scoffs. “Never! But I'll get right on that. Hey Jo! Mrs. T's usual and be quick about it!”

Jo, moving back and forth between three espresso machines as she works, rolls her eyes and gives him a pointed glare. “Get your fine ass back here and do it yourself if it's not fast enough for you, buster.” Mrs. Turner laughs out loud and Jo smiles at her, ignoring Dean's glare. He moves in next to her, hipchecking her out of his way, and makes short work of the small hot chocolate. As he slides the lid on the cup he glances up to see Mrs. Turner's disappointed look.

“Hey, what's wrong? Did I goof up your order?”

“N-no, I was just – well, I was hoping you'd do one of your little pictures on it.” She almost looks as though she's blushing as she looks up at him. Dean smiles broadly.

“Sure, anything for my best girl. You got a request, or dealer's choice?” Dean's wink is positively flirtatious, and Mrs. Turner does blush this time.

“Surprise me, dear.”

Jo snorts. “Look out, Mrs. T, he's got some pretty risque stuff in his bag of tricks.” Dean glares at her again, and Mrs. Turner laughs.

“I trust you not to embarrass me in front of my cribbage partners, young man.” She mock-frowns at Dean, who bows and smiles.

“Of course not. Gimme just a sec...” Dean pours carefully, and presents the result to his customer with a flourish: a smiling teddy bear inside a heart. Mrs. Turner coos delightedly, and he tips his head to her.

Jo's shaking her head when he turns back to the machines. “Showoff.”

“You're just jealous you're not as talented as me. And the morning crowd don't like you as much.”

“Pfffft, they love me, right, Mrs. Turner?”

The lady in question hmmms a little and cocks her head, looking up at Dean like a bright-eyed little bird.

“Dean, I have to say, Jo made me a perfectly lovely hot chocolate last week when you were out. I'm not sure I could choose between you.” She winks at his shocked expression.

“I'm sorry, Mrs. T, you've turned on me, my heart is broken. Someone else will have to ring you up. I'm too emotional.” Dean makes a show of wiping his eyes on the corner of his apron, and Benny elbows him out of the way.

“I gotcha, little lady. Cain't send a boy to do a man's work, now can we?” He winks at her too and rings her up as Jo brings the steaming cup of chocolate over.

Dean waves and grins at Mrs. Turner, and slides into Jo's place. He glances up at the clock – 6:43 – and then Jo yells, a little louder than necessary, “Grande cappuccino, half-caff, half regular, no whip, extra hot!”

“Grande cap, half-caff, half regular, no whip, extra hot!” Dean sings back to her, and gets to work. For the next several minutes he and Benny maneuver around each other and pump out the drinks. He doesn't get a chance to check the clock again until 6:51. When he sees the time he smiles a little smile he thinks no one else can see – until he hears a girl's voice cheering from a table near the wall.

“Ha! I toldja! That'll be five bucks, ma'am, no more, no less.” Dean's friend Charlie comes up to the counter near the cash register, winking at Jo and holding out her hand.

Jo scowls and starts to dip into the tip jar. “Ah, ah, ah, no you don't, cherie, that's for ever'body and you know it.” Benny's side-eying her from his spot in front of the machines. “You got to pay y'own debts, darlin.”

Muttering, Jo digs in her pocket and slaps a five into Charlie's waiting hand. “Aw, thanks, _darlin_.” Charlie leans toward Jo a little and gives her a slow smile.

Dean's watching this whole exchange with a puzzled frown. “What the – what was the bet?”

Charlie and Jo look at each and then howl with laughter. Benny's laughing too, along with a couple of customers in line and Ash, the milk guy, who's just come in from the back carrying a clipboard.

“Benjamin, my brother, I gotcha fifteen gallons in the cooler already, if you would please sir.” He hands the clipboard over for Benny to sign, and grins at Dean's expression. “They got your number, double shot. You _always_ start watchin' the hourglass along about 6:30, and you _always_ start grinnin' like Romeo standin' under fair Juliet's balcony by this time.”

Dean's frowning and glaring back and forth at all of them. “So?”

Ash nudges Jo, who's still giggling and ringing up customers. “So the lovely Ms. Harvelle bet the equally lovely Ms. Bradbury a five spot that you'd crack before 6:50. Ms. Bradbury has more faith in your strength of character, which I gotta say remains a mystery to the rest of us, but she was positive you'd hold out till at least then.”

Dean's gaping at him like a fish. “You – what??” He looks over at Jo, smirking back at him. “You did – what??” He's blushing furiously, and is about to lay into both girls when the bell over the door rings again. He glances up at the clock; it's 6:53.

Dean whirls around and looks at the door, and just coming through it after holding it with a smile for a young couple juggling coffee and briefcases, wiping his snowy feet on the mat and shutting the door quickly behind him is – well, privately Dean thinks of this guy as his personal daydream, the fuel for many late-night fantasies, a guy Dean couldn't have ordered any better from a catalog under _Your Type, Dean_. Dr. Castiel Novak, tenured professor of astrophysics and planetary science at Boston University. Almost as tall as Dean, unruly dark hair currently squashed under a blue stocking cap that brings out his bright blue eyes, a little scruff on the perfect jawline and a little smile on his face as his eyes scan over the baristas, all currently staring at him. A little frown appears between his eyes.

“Um... good morning, Benny, Dean, Jo.” He nods and looks down at the pastry case.

Dean starts a little at the sound of the guy's voice, and realizes that he hasn't actually taken a breath for several seconds. He gasps out and sucks air in, ignoring the muffled giggles behind him. Benny, bless him, has stepped away pretending to chat with Ash. Dean pastes a grin on his face and moves up to the order counter.

“Mornin, Doc. Cold enough for ya?” The man smiles at him and nods.

“Yes, it's quite invigorating.”

Dean makes himself relax and takes another deep breath.

“So, tall hazelnut mocha?”

Dr. Novak chuckles. “It continues to amaze me how you can possibly remember one order out of all the hundreds you hear every day. Yes, that will be perfect.”

Dean blushes a little and dips his head. “Comin' right up. Anything to eat with it?”

The doctor pats his stomach. “No, I'm afraid not, I haven't been able to run much recently with the streets so icy, I'd better not or I won't be able to get into my pants any longer.” He smiles his awkward little smile, and Dean feels his knees wobble.

“Uh – okay, then. Be right back.”

He turns away quickly and bumps into the nearest machine, giving Jo and Charlie yet another reason to giggle behind their hands. He decides to continue ignoring them, and makes up the drink in record time, slips a cardboard sleeve over it and puts it down next to Jo at the register. Dr. Novak meets him there, his wallet already in his hand, and smiles expectantly at Jo and then Dean. Jo rings up the order while Dean fumbles for something to say.

“Uh... Busy day today?” _Jeez, I used to be smooth_ , he thinks despairingly. But the doctor looks at him like he's seriously considering the question.

“Not especially. It's just the second week back from the break so I'm not piling homework assignments on just yet.” He gives Dean that funny little smile again, and Dean smiles back helplessly, racking his brain. Jo makes a face at him, and turns to the doctor.

“Sure we can't get you anything else, Dr. Novak?” He shakes his head. “Okay, that's $3.50 today.” He pays, nods pleasantly and moves to the self serve island. There's a rack of napkins, stirring sticks, more cardboard sleeves, straws and a row of various sprinkles. This may be Dean's favorite part to watch: the process of selecting two items to sprinkle. First Dr. Novak carefully removes the lid on his mocha. Then he stands with one finger tapping his chin, contemplating his choices; finally, he takes down the two (no more, no less) containers and dispenses the sprinkles of the day. He smiles down at his creation, makes a satisfied little noise and then carefully replaces the lid. Ritual complete, he looks over at the counter again, nods and smiles one last time.

“Thank you, Jo, Dean. Have a wonderful day.” He's turning toward the door and walking away before Dean can make his mouth work.

“Yeah, you have a, um... okay.” Dean sighs as the bell dings behind the closing door. He drops his chin onto his chest.

“Ugh, I'm a dope. God, my brain, I'm so stupid!” Dean thumps the side of his head with his fist.

Jo hugs him one-armed. “No, you're not, you're just... I dunno, Dean, never thought I'd say this but I think you might be shy.” She laughs at herself and shakes her head.

Charlie laughs too. “Maybe not exactly shy, just around hot guys, eh?” She winks at Dean's sour face.

He starts to argue with her, and then his brain finally kicks back into gear and helpfully presents him with an all-star lineup of all the people he's dated in the last few years. There've been a number of girls. Dean's never had trouble getting dates with girls, charming rascal that he is; just a couple guys, and now that he thinks about it, those were sort of incomplete passes. He sighs and rubs his face.

“Yeah, you might be onto something there, Charlie. I just – I freeze up, or something. I always feel like, y'know, awkward and stupid and like they'll never be – Shit.” He scowls down at his hands.

Charlie leans across the counter and hugs him. “C'mon, cheer up, sparky, you'll get another chance. You know he never misses a day when school's in session. Just turn on the charm next time, eh? Maybe practice in front of the mirror?”

Jo erupts in giggles again, dancing out of the way when Dean throws an elbow at her midsection.

“Sorry, buddy, I just got this mental picture – ” she sputters again, and bites her lip to keep from laughing right out loud.

Dean sighs theatrically and turns to Benny. “I'm gonna go do dishes or something, boss. Get me out of the spotlight.”

Benny smiles sympathetically. “No worries, brother, we'll cover ya. We're used to it, after all.”

“Hmmmm.” Dean scowls at all of them. He moves behind Benny to grab a couple of tubs of dirty mugs and spoons, and thumps his way through the swinging door to the kitchen. He starts loading the big dishwasher, his hands going through the motions out of habit and his brain running the tape of this morning's non-conversation with the professor he's been mooning over for weeks. By the time the dishwasher's loaded and running and he's got the milk crates and muffin trays wiped down and stacked away he's feeling pretty low.

Dean likes his regular customers, the friendly faces who chat with him and laugh at his lame jokes and are pleased when he remembers their orders or puts little cat faces or leaf patterns in their foam. He's good at that, sometimes people ask him for special things and he always comes up with something cute or funny. It makes him feel good, like somehow he's adding something to their long, hard day. But with this guy... Dr. Novak's always pleasant, always remembers everybody's name and thanks Dean for his drink and wishes him a wonderful day. But it's always the same. To Dean it feels like he's nothing special, just part of a professor's normal routine, newspaper, coffee, Dean's goofy face, the walk to the university…

After a while Dean comes back out to the shop to take over for Benny. There must be something in his face, because Jo gives him another hug and mutters _sorry_ under her breath; Benny shoos him away to take a break.

Charlie's watching him from her table; he pours himself a cup and snags a muffin on his way by the display case, and drops into the empty chair across from her.

“Hey buddy, sorry we gave you such a hard time.” Dean glances over at her. She's looking at him solemnly, and she really does look sorry.

“Nah, no worries, I'm fine. It was a lost cause anyway, I mean, let's face it, Mr. Cool I ain't. Hey, at least I'm predictable, right?” Dean plasters on a fake smile and winks. “So, we on for tomorrow night? What's the plan?”

 

 

Dean's off for a couple of days after that, which gives him enough time to lick his wounds while he spends the day doing laundry and buying groceries and cleaning up his microscopic apartment, ending in a night at the Plug 'n Play with Charlie and Kevin and some of their gaming friends. They're all nerds and geeks and sort of scarily serious about their games, but he long ago got over being surprised at the fact that they're also expert drinkers. He invariably ends the evening passed out in the corner waiting until they decide it's time to go home, and take the trouble to make sure he gets to his place in one piece. This means the second of his days off is spent sleeping it off, eating greasy hangover food and swearing to whatever gods there may be that he's getting too old for this shit and won't ever do it again if his head would just stop hurting. By bright-and-early Friday morning he's more than ready to go back to work.

And of course it's a repeat of Tuesday, and practically every other morning since school started last fall – the clock strikes 6:53, unfairly attractive professor comes smiling through the door, Dean the Doofus fumbles his impossibly heavy end of the conversation and aforementioned hot doc is out the door by 6:55.

Ellen is there to witness it this time – Ellen owns the bakery where Benny gets his pastries, and she's come by with some extra muffins and some paperwork to go over. She's known Dean since he and his brother Sam were little tads, and pretty much took over after their mother died. She's also Jo's mother, and when Jo brings her a cup of coffee about 6:30 they have a short whispered conversation which involves a lot of hand gestures and covert glances at Dean. So when Dr. Novak comes in she puts down her coffee and newspaper and watches intently, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. Dean watches the door shut behind his paramour, again, and when he looks back Ellen's sharp glance is lasered in on _him_. After a second her lips twist, and she crooks her finger at him. It's not a request.

Dean plops into the chair she shoves out for him. “What?”

“Watch your tone, sonny. I can still box your ears, y'know.” She scowls fiercely.

Dean sighs. “Yes, ma'am. Sorry.”

She watches him for a minute. “What's goin' on, honey? And don't even bother givin' me that _what do you mean_ face. I've been hearin' about this professor guy, and now that I've seen it for myself I gotta ask: what's holding you back?”

Dean frowns. “When did I invite all you people to butt into my business, anyway?” He turns around to glare at Jo, who refuses to look at him.

Ellen gives him a look. “Don't be like that, sweetie. It's obvious you like this guy, and from what I saw just now he likes you too. I've never seen you hold back from somebody you wanted to go out with. What's the big deal?”

Dean's running a fingertip back and forth across the table top. “I – oh, I dunno, I'm just nervous around him, I guess. It's like – like, we're from different worlds or something. He wouldn't...” his voice gets lower and lower, and Ellen has to lean across the table to hear him. “He wouldn't be interested in me.”

“Listen, you sweet, bone-headed, soft-hearted dope. You're smart and funny and too damn cute for your own good. You're a catch, Dean. And like I said, I think he's already on board. The only thing holding you back is you.”

“But...but he's a PhD and a professor and a big-time expert in astronomy, and he's published books and he'd never – I'm not – ” Dean's shaking his head, and then he gives a start when Ellen smacks the table with her hand.

“Don't you dare badmouth you to me, boy. He'd be lucky to get you and that's all there is to it. Now you put yourself out there and take a chance, you big ninny!” She sounds fierce, but she's smiling tenderly at him, and covers his hand with hers. “Promise you'll at least give it a try? I hate seeing you mope around like this. Promise?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, I promise. Geez.” Dean scowls, and then smiles shyly when she pats his hand and leans forward to kiss his cheek.

“That's my boy. Now go on, get back to work, I gotta talk business with the big man. Go on, get outta my hair.” She grins at him as he pushes to his feet.

“Thanks, Ellen.” Dean smiles again and heads back behind the counter.

 

 

The next morning, Dean's nervous and jittery from the moment they open, so much so that Benny finally snaps at him in exasperation.

“Brother, as God is my witness I'm gonna nail your feet to the floor if you don't let some air outta your tires. What IS the problem??”

Dean sighs. “Sorry, boss, I'm just – antsy today, I guess.” He doesn't meet Benny's eyes.

“Hmm.” Benny keeps working, side-eying Dean every once in awhile. After a few minutes the line's pretty much gone, and he turns to face Dean and cocks his head, a little grin playing around his mouth.

“This wouldn't have nothin' t'do with your little chat with Miss Ellen the other day, would it?”

Dean whirls around and glares. “How'd you – were you _eavesdropping??_ ”

Benny laughs merrily. “Hell no, that ain't my style. I go more the bribery route to get my information.” He winks at Dean's red face. “Ellen told me about it, I saw her with her mom face on and I asked her what was goin' on. So, what's your plan?” He's watching Dean with that damn smirk on his face, and Dean can't keep from blushing.

“Well, you know how the Doc always takes the lid off and puts sprinkles on his drink?” Dean's face moves without his permission into a soft little smile. “I'm gonna draw him a picture this time.”

Benny gives him a quizzical look. “You ain't done that before? You're always doin' that.”

“Yeah, but usually just, y'know, a jack-o'lantern or leaves or smiley faces or something boring like that.” Dean finishes loading a fresh tray of muffins in the display case and closes up the back. “I'm thinkin' I'll get out the big guns this time.” He's waggling his eyebrows and grinning wickedly.

“Whoa, is that a good idea, sport? I dunno if that's exactly the street his funny bone lives on, y'know what I mean?”

“Aw, c'mon, he's a smart guy, and he's a college professor, he's probably seen it all in his classes every day. He'll love it.” Dean's grinning in anticipation.

The bell rings suddenly, and Dean's head jerks up at the sound. Sure enough, Dr. Novak is coming through the door, smiling and nodding when he sees Dean watching him. Dean's face goes a little pink, but he calls out just like always.

“Morning, Doc! The usual today?”

Dr. Novak comes up to the counter opposite Dean, still smiling. “Yes, please. And I think I'd like a lemon poppyseed muffin this morning.”

“Sure, just put some fresh ones in the case. Want it warmed up a little?”

“No, that won't be necessary. I'll warm it up in the kitchen later.”

Dean nods. “Okay, then, one muffin and one tall hazelnut mocha, coming right up.” He smiles at the doctor and gets to work. He pours the heated milk slowly and carefully, moving the pitcher precisely, occasionally turning the cup a little until the picture's finished. Jo peeks over his shoulder and makes a sound somewhere between a gasp and a choke.

“Seriously, Winchester?? You sure about that?” She's trying to sound outraged while whispering.

Dean's almost giggling, he's so pleased with himself. “Oh yeah. He'll love it,” he whispers back, and moves up to the counter with drink and muffin.

“Here ya go. That'll be five-twenty-five this morning.”

Dr. Novak hands him the cash and drops a dollar bill in the tip jar. “Thank you, Dean.” He's smiling that great smile, and Dean can't help smiling back.

“Yeah, any time. Enjoy.” Dean watches him moving away before he turns to the next customer. He keeps glancing over toward the island where the sprinkles are. The doc sets down the muffin, puts the coffee on the counter, carefully pulls the lid off – and stares down into the cup, hand with lid still in the air. Dean's grin gets a little bigger. After a second Dr. Novak takes a deep breath and looks over at Dean. He's not smiling; he's got that little sort of confused frown between his eyes; he looks – shocked. And not in a good way.

Dean's smile falters. He can feel his face heating up. There's a buzzing in his ears, everything's going white around the edges and he thinks he might actually faint. Oh God he totally screwed this up, what the hell was he thinking?? Dr. Novak's face is bright red, and Dean feels like rolling up in a ball and stuffing himself into the big garbage can back in the kitchen. Except he can't tear his eyes away, he's staring as Dr. Novak fumbles the lid back on his coffee. He didn't even add the sprinkles, and he doesn't turn to look back toward the counter. He doesn't even wish Dean a wonderful day. He just scrambles out the door, practically running and narrowly missing a group coming in. Dean's standing there with his mouth open, trying to catch his breath and jumping a little when the door slams. God, he feels like he might cry.

“Well.” It's Jo, somewhere off to his right. “That was, uh...” She breaks off with a grunt; Benny must have elbowed her. Dean glances quickly at Charlie, sitting at her regular table; she's watching him with sympathy in her eyes, and Dean looks away just as quickly. It's just lucky there aren't any customers in line; he doesn't think he could even see to pull the shots. Dean rubs his eyes, turns around and runs square into Benny.

“Ugh, sorry, I'm just...” He's trying to get into the kitchen and away from everybody, but of course Benny is standing there like a brick wall.

“Hey brother, you all right?”

“God, I'm an idiot. You were right, I don't think the Doc was ready for a dick picture in his foam. I shoulda listened to you.” Dean keeps hoping the floor will open up and swallow him, but settles for rubbing his face with his hands and pulling his hair until it's sticking straight up.

Jo squeezes his arm. “Sorry, pal.” She has the same look on her face as Charlie does, and it's making Dean twitchy.

“Not your fault, kiddo. You tried to tell me.” Dean sighs. “Sorry, Benny, I've probably lost you a regular customer.”

“Nah, brother, he'll be back. He's a college perfessor, he runs on caffeine.” Benny's wiping down the machines and glancing over at Dean every few minutes. “Look, Dean, just talk to him. Next time he comes in, all ya gotta do is apologize. Just tell him you're a dumbass, y'know, somethin' he'll believe.” Dean looks at him narrowly, and Benny grins. “Seriously, just make this right, it'll be fine.”

“But how? Jeez, he's not gonna come back here, not while I'm here. I'll be lucky to ever see him again. How can I make it up to him?”

Benny leans his hands on the counter and looks at Dean for a minute. Finally he pushes himself off and comes toward Dean, thumping his shoulder and smiling.

“C'mon, let's sit a minute.” He gives Dean a little push toward the tables. When they're seated Jo brings a couple of mugs and pours coffee. She rests a hand on Dean's shoulder for a minute before she heads back to the counter.

Benny takes a gulp and looks across at Dean. “You never met my Andrea, Dean. That was a long time ago, I was just a kid, she was too. She was the most beautiful thing I ever saw. I fell real hard right off the bat, sank like a stone.” He chuckles and smiles fondly down into his coffee.

“Wow, Benny, I didn't know you were such a romantic, dude.” Dean's grinning and Benny laughs with him.

“Yeah, I was a goner. We saw a lot of each other for, I dunno, six months or so. I did a lot more daydreamin' in those days, I'd pretty much convinced myself we'd go off into the sunset, y'know. Course I was pretty young and stupid, like boys are. I didn't bother to mention all that to my lady, just assumed, I guess. And then...” His voice trails off and he looks away. Dean's watching his face, a little frown between his eyes.

“And then what?”

Benny sighs and looks down at the table top. “And then she got sick, and before I could get my head around it she was gone.” He looks straight at Dean, his face serious. “She died, Dean. She went quick and hard, and I never told her how I felt. I never told her I loved her. And y'know, I'm a happy man, Ruby and I are goin' great guns, life is good. But I still regret I didn't say anythin'. Hell, who knows, maybe nothin' would'a come of it. I got no idea how she felt about me, maybe she'd'a said no. But I'll never know, 'cause I chickened out, I was too cocky and too stupid to take a chance.”

Dean's frowning down into his cup now. Benny smiles and reaches out to put his big hand over one of Dean's.

“Don't be like me, brother. I know you're sweet on the doc, and I got a feelin' he's in about the same spot. Mama Ellen's right – ya gotta put y'self out there, my friend.”

“Ah god, I can't – what if he – he probably hates me, he's not gonna want to see me.” Dean's scowling down at the table, fingernails rubbing back and forth along a crack.

“Yeah, maybe. Only one way to find out, chief.” Benny winks when Dean looks up at him. “Might as well get back on the horse and see if she bucks.”

Dean looks thoughtfully off in the distance. “Hey, y'know he really likes those lemon scones. Maybe Ellen'd let me make a batch, I could take him one, and a mocha. No pictures this time.” He smiles a little shyly and looks back at Benny.

“Well, maybe one of your more – gentlemanly pictures this time.” Benny laughs when Dean's face goes red.

“Yeah, cause everybody knows what a gentleman I am.” Dean's grinning again, and thumps his fist on the table. “Hey, thanks, buddy. Thanks for talkin' me down.”

“Nah, it's purely selfish. I can't stand you mopin' around here like somebody kicked yer puppy.” Benny grins at him, and Dean kicks the leg of Benny's chair as he jumps up and goes to call Ellen.

 

He's practically broken a land speed record running across campus and managed not to spill the coffee or drop the bag in the process, and now that he's standing at the office door Dean can't bring himself to knock. He knows he's a jerk; he knows he screwed up and embarrassed this nice, quiet, private professor in a coffee shop full of people. Why on earth would the guy want anything to do with him? He'll probably slam the door in his face, and rightfully so. _Jesus_ , Dean's such a fuckup, this is just another example in a long and humiliating string of examples. He's doomed to spend his life making coffee for good- looking strangers and making stupid-ass pictures in everybody's latte and going home alone at night. He's circling the drain here, might as well get out quick before he humiliates himself any more. Dean's halfway turned away from the office door, scowling down at the floor and feeling his brain implode, when the perky little TA sees him standing where she left him.

“You can just knock, it won't bother him, I'm sure he's in there.” She leans past him and before Dean can stop her she knocks briskly on the door. “There you go, no worries. Have a nice day!” She smiles brightly and bustles off down the hallway, probably to ruin somebody else's day on her way back to her desk. Dean's standing there with one hand raised, belatedly trying to stop her, when the sound of the door clicking open spins him around.

Dr. Novak's standing there with his face halfway between a welcoming smile and an awkward scowl when he sees Dean. His face settles on a blank wall, as though he's decided to protect himself from whatever asshattery Dean's brought to his door. Dean's heart sinks.

“Uh...”

“Good morning, Dean. To what do I owe this...uncomfortable moment?” Castiel's voice is rougher than usual, tight and quiet. His face doesn't change, but Dean thinks he can see a look of wariness in the blue eyes, which only makes him feel worse.

“Hey, Doc, I, uh... I brought you your breakfast, haven't seen you for a couple days and I was gettin' worried you weren't starting your day with the minimum requirement of sugar and caffeine.” Dean smiles weakly, and then fumbles a little when there's no response. “Um, sorry. Here, I got one of those lemon scones you like, and your favorite coffee.”

That gets a response; Castiel draws back a step, frowning down at Dean's hands. “I'm not... I don't think...”

“Don't worry, it's, uh, G-rated. And fresh and delicious. I promise, it's nothing bad, I just...” Dean runs out of gas and lets his breath out in a huff. “I wanted – I'm really sorry, Doc. I get carried away with my own stupid ideas sometimes, and I, um, didn't stop to think.”

Castiel is no longer wearing that blank mask, which is good except he's replaced it with an angry glare. “People actually find that sort of thing _funny??_ ”

Dean shifts uncomfortably. “Well, yeah, some people do. But, um...” He trails off, making himself meet Castiel's gaze. “You're not most people. You're one of our best customers, and you're a, I dunno – you're special. I shouldn't have...” He swallows hard. “I'm really sorry. I'm an asshole on my best days, and that was sure an asshole move.” Dean stops and looks hopefully at Castiel's face.

It's silent for what stretches into a very long moment. Dean clears his throat and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Finally Castiel raises an eyebrow and tilts his head a little.

“Are you waiting for me to disagree with you?”

Dean gapes in amazement; for a second he can't even come up with a snappy comeback. Then he really looks at the professor's expression, and notices that the corners of his mouth are pulled up just a tiny bit, the promise of a smile. He grins delightedly.

“You are totally pulling my chain, you jackass. Here, take this stuff before I change my mind and eat it myself.” Dean shoves the coffee and the little bag at Castiel, whose face breaks into a real smile. Dean chuckles.

“You had me going, you jerk. Way to make me beg.”

Castiel steps back into his office, holding the door open so Dean can come in. “You deserve it. That was very unprofessional of you.”

Dean laughs out loud. “What, you think there are standards of professional behavior for _baristas?_ ”

Castiel's smile softens. “You are so much more than a barista, Dean. Here, sit down, you can watch while I enjoy my breakfast.”

Dean never has been good at taking compliments, especially one delivered so sincerely. He flushes to the roots of his hair, and makes a business of settling in the empty chair so he doesn't have to look Castiel in the face. He hears the rattling noise of the bag being opened and looks up.

Castiel is holding the open bag to his face and breathing in deeply, eyes fluttering closed. The sound he makes is just this side of pornographic. “Ahhhhh, that is so delicious. There's nothing better than Ellen's scones.”

Dean is surreptitiously trying to find a more comfortable position is his suddenly too-tight jeans. “I, ah... I actually made the scones this morning.” Castiel looks over at him with a surprised expression. “Yeah, Ellen's been giving me a few hours at the bakery before the coffee shop opens, teaching me some things. I'm actually having a great time. I used to bake bread and stuff at home when my brother and I were growing up, I even learned to make pie crust. It was cheaper, y'know, we didn't have much money, and besides it tastes so much better when it's...” He breaks off at Castiel's smile. “Uh, sorry, didn't mean to blather on. Anyway, I'm learning a lot. Hope that one's okay.”

Castiel's smile is warm. Dean feels a momentary irrational impulse to wriggle at his feet like a damn puppy.

“If it tastes anything like it smells it's going to be wonderful. Thank you, Dean.”

Dean blushes and ducks his head. “Have a look at the coffee, I, uh... Hope you like that too.” He can't quite look Castiel in the eye, but he watches as the professor carefully pulls the lid off the cup and peeks cautiously inside. A smile like the sun coming up breaks across Castiel's face. 

A teddy bear's face floats gently in the liquid, one eye winking flirtatiously. There are letters written with chocolate syrup in a curve around the edge of the cup, shaken apart a little from the journey across campus but still legible: _Dinner?_

Castiel looks up at Dean, who's watching him with a hopeful expression. Their eyes meet. For a second Dean can't breathe, and then he's smiling in relief as Castiel speaks:

“I would like that very much.”


End file.
